Last Night I Saw My World Explode
by 0justlisten0
Summary: Peter snorts. "Falling asleep already, old man? Normally, even you have a bit more stamina than this." Opening one eye, Chris glares at Peter, but it's half-hearted. "I'm so sorry," he replies, sarcasm at its best. "Being held captive in a root cellar for a couple of days and nearly being crushed to death when it collapsed took a bit out of me."


I have no explanation. I just wanted to be in the cool crowd that writes Petopher porn. That's it.

Title is a lyric from Fall Out Boy's "The Pros and Cons of Breathing".

Also, I made a shiny new tumblr! I'm now satans-vee, but it's subject to multiple changes, probably. 

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"Peter," Chris pants, his hands clenching at his sides. "_Fuck_, Peter!"

Peter flutters his lashes, bright blue eyes shining mischievously up at Chris. He puckers his lips again, leaning forward to press them to the very tip of Chris' cock, his tongue flicking out to lick away the bitter pre-come. He laps at the flared head once more, tongue pressing into the slit and tracing random patterns over the heated flesh.

Chris lets out a frustrated groan and shoves his fingers through Peter's hair, tugging harshly. Peter inhales sharply, eyes flashing supernatural blue at the small bite of pain. Chris grunts out a low, "Don't tease me, pup." Peter smirks, his eyes flicking up to stare at Chris, and quickly swallows his cock halfway down. Chris makes a choked little noise above him and bucks his hips, pushing further into Peter's mouth, hitting the back of his throat, moaning as Peter gags and digs his nails into Chris' upper thighs, a small bite of claws pressing through the denim there. Peter feels tears stinging at his eyes and blinks rapidly, struggling to take a deep breath through his nose, pushing at Chris to pull back.

Chris chuckles breathlessly. His fingers tug harder at Peter's hair at the sides, tightening and tilting his head back so that Chris can see his face, inhales sharply at the second flash of unearthly blue. He rubs his thumbs over Peter's temples and under his eyes, brushing away some of the stray tears that have slipped from the corners of his eyes. He smiles, his own eyes half-lidded. "Peter," Chris breathes, voice gruff. "You look so fucking _pretty_ like this," he murmurs almost reverently, and it's true – Peter always turns heads, of course (with those fucking form-fitting, low-cut V-necks and tight jeans that leave nothing to the imagination, one can't help but look), but like this… Like this – Peter on his knees in front of Chris, eyes the color of the sky staring up at him, glazed over with tears as he chokes on Chris' cock, plush lips spread in a perfect 'o' around him as he struggles to breathe through his nose, fighting his gag reflex as Chris holds his head down, thrusting shallowly into the warm heat surrounding him – Chris doesn't think there's a more perfect sight he's ever seen.

He trails his thumbs down to the corners of Peter's mouth, smoothing over the stretched lips, pressing inside the werewolf's warm mouth next to his cock. He bends his thumbs, pulling at the sides of Peter's mouth, opening it further. Chris withdraws slightly, just enough to have Peter gasping for whatever bit of breath he can before he quickly presses back inside, holding himself just _there_, in the back of Peter's throat, groaning in ecstasy when the warm passage constricts around the head of his dick. _Fuck_. Chris has a passing thought of fucking Peter, of feeling all of Peter's muscles clenching and unclenching around him as he fucks into him, but discards it. Allison will be home soon, so this will have to suffice for now. (Chris will absolutely take his time taking Peter apart, breaking him down and reshaping each of the pieces he breaks before he fits them back together again the very next chance he gets.)

For now though, Chris pulls back, the soft gasps of air from Peter the only sound as Chris allows him to catch his breath momentarily, before thrusting forward again, cockhead forcefully hitting the back of his throat again. He repeats his actions a handful more times, holding longer and longer each time, giving Peter a chance to gain some control of his gag reflex and get used to the feeling of Chris fucking into his throat.

On his fifth return thrust, Chris lets go, fucking hard and fast into Peter's mouth, opened wide by Chris' thumbs still hooked in the corners of his mouth. Peter splutters and gags, drool sliding down his chin and on the floor between his spread thighs, the sounds he makes spurring Chris to fuck his face more enthusiastically. "God, pup," Chris gasps out, panting heavily as he widens his stance, shifting to give himself a better angle, still holding Peter by the sides of his head and mouth. "Fuck, Peter. You're so good for me, aren't you, sweetheart? Just sitting there and taking my cock like a good pup." Peter makes a sound that resembles a whine, eyes shifting briefly, and slides his hands up and down Chris' thighs in an encouraging manner.

Chris' breath hitches after a few more thrusts, a moan catching as he shoves his cock fully into Peter's mouth, thumbs releasing Peter's lips as Chris shifts one hand to holding the back of the werewolf's head, keeping him in place, while his other hand goes to Peter's cheek, cupping it as he thumbs away the fresh trail of tears that rolls down when Peter gags. Chris thrusts a few more shallow thrusts before pulling out entirely, Peter gasping desperately while Chris begins jacking himself, the hand still holding Peter's hair gripping tight and forcing his head back.

"I'm going to mark you, Peter," Chris rumbles out, breath ragged. "I'm going to rub my scent into you so well that everyone is going to know you belong to _me_," he spits out, fingers tightening further in Peter's hair. Peter's nostrils flare, and his eyes flash, his tongue coming out to lick his already spit-slick lips as Chris directs his cock toward the werewolf's face, hand jacking faster, and groans out his release, the first spurt of come striping Peter's wet cheek, the second landing over his lips and chin. Peter opens his mouth further, tongue sticking out, as the last few spurts are aimed at his mouth.

Peter looks much too satisfied with himself when Chris pulls away, fingers smoothing over the back of the beta's head in a silent apology for its rough treatment. Chris collapses backward into his desk chair, pants still haphazardly askew and only partway down his hips. Reaching into one of the drawers of the desk, Chris retrieves a small handkerchief and tosses it to Peter, who catches it easily.

"I do hope that was enough stress relief for you, Argent," Peter smirks at him, wiping the evidence of Chris' relief from his skin, grimacing when he realizes he has come in his hair. "Really?"

Chris chuckles, lethargy overtaking him, limbs feeling like hundred-pound weights as he waves one hand through the air. "I didn't hear you complaining when it was happening, pup." Peter rolls his eyes. "And yes," he murmurs, eyes drooping. "It was."

Peter snorts. "Falling asleep already, old man? Normally, even you have a bit more stamina than this."

Opening one eye, Chris glares at Peter, but it's half-hearted. "I'm so sorry," he replies, sarcasm at its best. "Being held captive in a root cellar for a couple of days and nearly being crushed to death when it collapsed took a bit out of me." He sees a reluctant grin on Peter's lips, now only slightly swollen and red from his abuse of them, werewolf healing having already kicked in.

"A better man, Christopher, wouldn't need excuses." Peter smirks wider at him as he pushes himself off the floor, hands dusting imaginary dirt off his clothing, smoothing away the few wrinkles. He lets out an intentional moan when his hand slips over his erection, still very much hard behind the tight denim.

Chris lifts one eyebrow. "I'm surprised you didn't take care of that," he says and flutters his hand weakly. "Come here," he offers, even though a bone-deep weariness has already settled in him. He stifles a yawn as Peter rolls his eyes again, shaking his head.

"You're about to pass out, which means you won't be able to give me the attention I so thoroughly deserve, so no." Peter moves closer regardless, but only leans down, hands gripping the armrests of the chair, bracketing Chris in. He shifts closer, lips a hair's breadth away, breaths mingling as he murmur to the hunter, "I'm content waiting until next time, Argent; it just means you owe me _doubly_ then." He flicks his tongue out, trailing over Chris' bottom lip briefly. "You'd better get up and dressed before your dear daughter returns. We don't want her to find Daddy with his pants down, do we?"

Chris shivers a little as Peter says _daddy_ and _oh_, they will most _definitely_ have to explore that at a later date. He still manages to shoot Peter an exasperated glance though, a mumbled _asshole_ around a wide yawn, so he lets it slide for the moment. Peter inches forward the small bit of space to press his lips to the hunter's, delivering gentle pressure in the softest of kisses.

"I look forward to next time, Christopher."


End file.
